Making Amends
by brassband777
Summary: Set in Season 6 sometime after Sam has regained his soul. Sam is desperate to make amends after the deeds that he committed while soulless and risks his life while on a hunt. Dean is not impressed! WARNING: contains spanking of an adult male - please do not read if this offends.


**Title:**** Making Amends**

**Author****: brassband777**

**Characters:**** Dean and Sam**

**Scenario:**** Takes place during Season six, sometime after Sam has gotten his soul back. Sam feels guilty for the deeds committed by his soulless self and is desperate to make amends.**

**Summary****: Sam risks his life on a hunt and Dean is not impressed.**

**Author's Notes:**** Written for the Summer Team Challenge over on Live Journal. **

"Dean, I'm sorry, but….."

"Not now, Sam!" Dean managed to grit out, holding his hand up to stop Sam's apology, "I can't deal with this now, just get inside." He nodded towards the motel room.

Sam opened his mouth to explain, but after seeing the furious expression on his brother's face, he closed it again with a snap. _Surely Dean will listen once he's calmed down?_ Sam opened the car door and unfolded his tall frame from the front seat of the Impala before obediently heading towards their motel room with a final glance over his shoulder.

Dean watched until his little brother was safely ensconced inside the room. Unknowingly, he was clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Then he threw the Impala into gear and screeched out of the parking lot.

Dean only drove to the outskirts of town before pulling over to the side of the road and dropping his head onto the steering wheel, breathing deeply and concentrating on getting his emotions under control. _Sam was okay!_

But he very nearly hadn't been! They'd been hunting a Kimitri, which according to Bobby was definitely a two-man job, preferably a three-man job, as it was lightning quick and super strong. You also couldn't dispose of it from a nice, safe distance away, as the only way to kill it was to cut out its heart with a silver blade.

They'd both been doing reconnaissance at separate ends of town, when Sam had found its trail. He had rung Dean to tell him.

**Flasback:**

"Dean, I've found its trail. It leads into the abandoned warehouse at the end of Redmoor Avenue."

"Good work, Sammy! Wait there. I'll be with you as quick as my baby can get me there."

"But it's got the girl, Dean. If I wait, it might be too late."

"I know, Sammy, but we can't risk it. You know what Bobby said."

"But what if I can save her? "

Dean's little brother radar started tingling. "No, Sam. I mean it! Wait for me. I'll be there in ten minutes max."

"But…."

"No _buts_. I mean it, Sam. Wait for me. That's an order!"

"Bye, Dean." Sam hung up.

Dean cursed. _His stupid little brother was gonna get himself killed!_ He had no doubts whatsoever that the kid was gonna attempt playing hero to save the damsel in distress. He floored the Impala's accelerator - _speeding tickets be damned!_

**End of Flashback**

In the motel room, Sam dropped down onto his bed, as usual, the one furthest from the door. He could feel the adrenaline still pumping in his veins, but then he had just had a really close call. _Too close!_

_But still, Dean didn't have a right to be so mad, _he reasoned, _sure, he'd disobeyed Dean, but his brother couldn't fault his motive! He was only carrying on the _family business_ after all, trying to save people. And it had all turned out okay in the end. It was no big deal._

Sam glanced down with a grimace at his favourite shirt. It was covered in thick, black goo – the Kimitri's blood. He was sure he'd got the worst end of the deal there – Dean had pinned the creature down, while Sam had been given the unpleasant task of hacking its heart from its body….that was _after_ he'd been disarmed and cornered by the monster and rescued by his big brother. He shuddered when he remembered the fear that he had heard in his brother's voice when Dean had charged into the warehouse shouting his name. Sam at the time had been pressed up against the wall, weaponless, with no means of escape, convinced that he was about to meet his Maker….again! Dean, completely disregarding his own safety, had flung himself at the Kimitri, giving Sam the opportunity to scramble to safety and retrieve his weapon from the floor, a fifteen inch, solid silver blade. Sam refused to think of what would have happened if his brother hadn't arrived when he did.

He decided to shower, figuring that Dean wouldn't make an appearance for a while yet. Twenty minutes later, Sam emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, feeling much more relaxed. _Yeah, Dean would see reason, he wouldn't think this warranted a…uh….well one of __**those**_, s_urely?_ Sam couldn't bring himself to even think the word. _No, he'd only done his job. Okay, he hadn't saved the girl, she'd already been dead, but he couldn't have known that, so Dean couldn't blame him, it wouldn't be fair!_

Sam had just finished getting dressed in comfortable sweats and a t-shirt when Dean entered the motel room. A quick glance at the older hunter's face told Sam that Dean was no longer furious at least, but he didn't like the determined expression that had replaced the fury either.

"Hey, Dean." he decided to go for casual and pretend nothing had happened, sitting down on his bed and running his hands through his wet hair.

Dean settled himself on his own bed, opposite Sam. He turned his steely gaze on his little brother. Sam couldn't help squirming uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"I think we should have ourselves a little chat, Sammy, seeing as you now fancy yourself as some kind of superhuman, comic book hero."

"No, I don't," Sam denied hotly.

"No?" Dean raised his eyebrows enquiringly, "then why did you deliberately take on a creature that is too strong for a single hunter?"

"I had to try and save the girl, Dean." Sam forced himself to meet his brother's unwavering, intense green eyes_. He hadn't done anything wrong! So why could his brother make him feel like a naughty little boy?_

"Ah, but it was too late for that anyway, Superboy. Your heroics got you zero, nada, zilch!"

"But I didn't know it was too late, she might still have been alive," Sam defended himself.

"She might've been, but even so, what would _you_ have been if I hadn't got there when I did?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his feet, unwilling to answer.

"Cat got your tongue, Super-hero-wannabe? Shall I tell you what you'd be? You'd be dead, that's what!"

"Maybe not, maybe I'd just have been knocked out," replied Sam petulantly, glancing back up at Dean, looking exactly like a sulky teenager.

"Oh yeah, Batboy? And how would that scenario pan out? Let's see….hmm….I know! I then get killed, because you're unconscious 'n it takes at least two to get rid of this particular fugly!"

Sam glanced down at his hands and didn't reply – _he hadn't thought of that._

"Let's make this simple. Did you disobey a direct order that I gave you?"

Sam nodded reluctantly. "But…"

Dean interrupted. "But nothing! And did you risk your life?"

Again Sam nodded. "Yeah, but I had no choice."

"Of course you had a choice, dammit! You could have waited a measly ten minutes until I got there. Now either of those infractions on their own are enough to get your hide tanned, never mind the two combined."

"Okay, I'll admit, maybe I made a bad call, but I won't do it again, so you don't have to do _**that**_. Let's just call it a day, huh? We can forget it. All's well that ends well and all that."

Sam stood up and moved towards the small table by the window where his laptop was situated. _If he didn't comply, Dean couldn't spank him. Right?_

Sam had barely taken three steps when Dean's hand shot out and caught his wrist in a vice-like grip, halting his movement.

"Oh no you don't, it's not ended yet. Come on, Sammy. Over my lap. Now we've talked about it, you know you deserve it."

Sam shook his head in denial, causing miniscule droplets from his freshly washed hair to shower his older brother. "No."

"You still saying you don't deserve it?"

Sam remained quiet.

"Didn't think so. Now get your butt in position."

Sam again shook his head, causing his floppy hair to fall over his eyes. He peered at Dean through the makeshift bangs, making him appear much younger than he really was. "I'm not just gonna submit to you spanking me Dean. It's ridiculous. Only kids get their butts blistered. I dunno why Dad 'n you think it's okay to spank an adult, 'cause it's not!"

"Maybe not in all families," Dean conceded, "but it's normal for Winchesters. And you're a Winchester! Don't forget you're not the only one to get your ass handed to you as an adult….Dad did it to me on numerous occasions."

"Well I don't agree with it," replied Sam mutinously, "I'm an adult! I can do what I want, when I want. You're not my boss."

Dean sighed. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Sammy, it's up to you."

Sam shook his head and tried to back away, but Dean still held his wrist in a vicelike grip.

"Fine, you want it the hard way, I can do that." As he finished speaking, Dean swung his own foot, knocking his unsuspecting brother's out from under him, while using his firm hold on Sam's wrist to direct the kid's fall. Sam landed across his brother's knees with a very girly squawk, his torso resting on the bed. Dean immediately locked one arm around his waist, securing his little brother effectively in place. He also placed one leg over Sam's, preventing him from getting his feet under him and attempting to stand up.

"You have no right, Dean!" Sam struggled in a futile attempt to free himself, but in this position he had no leverage.

"I have every right. I'm the older brother and it's my job to look after you!"

Not wanting to waste any more time and just get the discipline over with, Dean used his free hand to yank Sam's sweatpants down to mid-thigh. He immediately began swatting his brother's buttocks hard and fast.

A pained 'OWW!" escaped Sam's lips, before he immediately clamped down on it. _He was an adult, not some snot-nosed kid, he could endure this._

However, despite Sam's best efforts at remaining stoic, as the burning sting steadily increased, he unconsciously began to squirm over his brother's knees.

"Seeing things from my point of view yet, Sammy?" asked Dean conversationally.

"No," muttered Sam, "You're a moron. Now let me up!"

"Tut tut tut, Sammy. You're not in a position to request anything. And naughty boys who call people nasty names get their mouths washed out with soap."

"Go to hell, Dean," growled Sam, not at all in the mood for Dean's particular brand of humour, when he was upended in this undignified position, getting his butt roasted.

"Been there, done that. I'll pass thanks," replied Dean without skipping a beat, continuing to bring his hand down with painful regularity.

Sam froze. He'd spoken without thinking - used words that were thrown around glibly by millions every day, without them understanding the deeper meaning. Dean _had_ been to hell! And the experience had very nearly broken his brother. He guiltily remembered how Dean had struggled to cope in those first few months after Castiel had retrieved him from the depths of hell. Sam's own memories of hell, of the cage, were thankfully unknown to him, hidden safely behind the wall that Death had constructed in his mind.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean knew that the kid was apologising for the comment and not for his foolhardy actions concerning the Kimitri. "Don't sweat it, Sammy. I know you didn't mean it. Right, I think your warm-up's done now."

"Warm-up?" spluttered Sam. _But it hurt so much already!_ He felt Dean hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers and tried to bodily fling himself off his brother's knee. "Noooooo, Dean!"

"Yes, Sammy." Dean had been completely prepared for the younger hunter's revolt and had tightened his restraining hold in preparation, easily keeping him in position.

"Please, Dean," Sam implored, "not on the bare….please."

"Sorry, Sammy, but it's gotta be done." He pulled the boxers down to join the sweatpants.

Sam buried his head in his arms on the bed, his face crimson with embarrassment. Sure, Dean had helped change his diapers when he was a baby and they'd bathed together when they were both young children, so it wasn't like Dean had never seen his bare butt before, but this was different. Dean had spanked him on numerous occasions growing up, but he'd only spanked him bare twice before. That told Sam in no uncertain terms how serious Dean viewed his latest infraction.

Dean looked down at his handy-work so far. Sam's butt cheeks were dark pink, but the undercurve and tops of his thighs were still milky white. He raised one knee in order to change the angle, knowing from personal experience how sensitive this particular area was.

Sam tensed, knowing full well what the shift in position meant. The first slap of skin on skin to the crease where his buttocks met thighs was loud in the motel room, but Sam quickly forgot the amount of noise when the sharp, intense sting registered in his brain a moment later. He couldn't prevent a quiet yelp from escaping, before gritting his teeth determinedly in order to neutralise any other sounds he might be tempted to make.

When Dean had painted the undercurve and the very top of Sam's thighs with red handprints so that it matched the rest of his derriere, he paused for a moment to listen to Sam's breathing. _Darn, the kid was stubborn – his breathing was quicker and shallower than normal, but he wasn't crying yet._ Dean hated hurting his brother, but this was for his own good and he just wanted to get it over with. He moved his swats back up to the crest, employing a technique he had learned first-hand from his father while ass-up over his knee: swatting the same area three times before moving on.

Sam couldn't hold out any longer. _It really really hurt!_ A quiet sniffle heralded the opening of the floodgates. Dean was immediately aware of his brother's quiet crying, but completed one more circuit of his brother's now crimson buttocks before stopping.

"Nearly done, Sammy." He ran a soothing hand over his brother's back.

"N-no," sniffled Sam, his voice muffled as he had his head buried in his arms, "done n-now. Please?"

"Sorry, Sammy. Disobeying a direct order gets you a spanking. Risking your life gets you the belt."

Sam shook his head, "N-no, please. I'm s-sorry."

"Shhh, Sammy, you'll be okay," Dean soothed, continuing to rub gentle circles on his brother's back.

Sam gulped in a few deep breaths, trying to get a handle on his crying, focussing on the reassuring touch of his brother_. His rear was ablaze!_

Not wanting to drag this out longer than necessary, Dean unbuckled his belt with one hand, continuing to comfort Sam with the other. It was awkward true, and would have been easier to achieve with both hands, but his little brother's needs came first.

Sam may have changed his vocal reaction to being spanked over the years – Sam had always yelped and Owwed really loudly whenever he was physically chastised, until he had hit his mid-teens and decided that that was childish. After that, Sam had fought to remain stoic and quiet when spanked. One thing that hadn't changed though, was Sam's need and craving for physical comfort after a spanking. Dean just wanted to get it over and done with, so that he could give that much-needed comfort and reassurance.

"Hang in there, Sammy, just a few more." Dean again moved his arm around Sam's waist after doubling the belt over in his other hand.

He laid the first stripe across the top of his brother's buttocks and worked his way downwards, careful not to overlap any of the strokes. Sam could no longer keep quiet, though he muffled his cries by stuffing the bedspread into his mouth and biting down on it.

When he reached the top of his brother's thighs, Dean paused. He knew his Dad would have insisted on completing another circuit in order to really drive the message home, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Sammy was crying so hard already.

Decision made, Dean threw down his belt onto the floor and quickly drew Sam's boxers back up over the scarlet, inflamed skin, conscious of his brother's embarrassment at being half-naked.

"It's over, Tiger." He resumed running a soothing hand up and down Sam's back. "You're okay now." Dean hated seeing his brother cry and the fact that he was the one responsible for the tears tore his heart in two.

Sam lay over Dean's lap, unmoving except for the shaking shoulders resulting from his sobs, for a good five minutes before he began to get a handle on himself. All the while, he concentrated on Dean's gentle, reassuring hand and his murmured words of comfort. At last, he attempted to stand, dragging the back of his hand over his eyes to remove the tears that were still falling, and immediately found himself enveloped in a tight hug from his big brother. Dean might grouse about 'chick flick moments', but it was all a front – he would give Sam as many chick flick moments as he needed…..and he _always_ knew what his little brother needed.

Sam buried his head in Dean's neck and wrapped his own arms around him – Dean might have been the one who had just tanned his hide, but he never felt safer or more loved than when he was with Dean.

"'M sorry," he mumbled.

"I know. No more heroics, okay?" _Dean did not want to experience the fear that he had felt that afternoon ever again! All the way to the warehouse he had been convinced that he would be too late, that he would find Sam's mutilated corpse when he got there._

Sam nodded and pulled back with a final sniff. "Kay." He realised his sweats were pooled around his ankles and kicked them off, wanting as little as possible to come in contact with his burning posterior.

"Sit." Dean seated himself back on the bed and patted the space next to him.

"Sit?" asked Sam in disbelief, "I can't."

Dean teased, "I did a good job then?"

"Bite me, Dean," grumped Sam, mock-pouting at his brother.

"If you were a buxom blonde, maybe, but you're not," grinned Dean, laughing as Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"No, seriously Sammy. I wanna talk to you. You can lie down instead." Dean patted his bed again. He knew Sam could always lie on his own bed, but after a thorough spanking like he'd just been given, he knew the kid would want to be near him.

Sam carefully sprawled out on his stomach on Dean's bed, being careful not to accidentally let his abused rump come into contact with anything. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"Hmm, let's talk about why you stupidly risked your life in the first place." Dean casually rested one hand on Sam's shoulder, knowing his brother would be comforted by the contact, but also that he wouldn't ask for it.

Sam looked puzzled. "To save the girl, Dean. You know that."

"Yeah, but you knew going in alone that you risked your own life. Why would you do that and not wait just ten minutes for me to get there? It's not like I was going to be four hours or something like that."

"I couldn't take the chance, Dean. I _had _to try and save her!"

"Why? You know we can't save everyone."

Dean already knew why, but he wanted to get his little brother to admit it. Ever since Sam had regained his soul and Cas had stupidly told the kid what his soulless self had been up to, Sam had been desperate to make amends for the deeds he had done, even though he didn't remember doing them. In order to make up for what he had done (what he _thought_ he had done – he didn't listen when Dean insisted that that wasn't _him,_ it had just been an empty shell that wore his face), Sam had thrown himself wholeheartedly into hunting. He was so desperate to make atonement however, that he was frequently taking risks with his own safety – and that was not acceptable in Dean's book!

Sam paused for a moment before answering, sorting things out in his own mind. "Who knows how many people I hurt or worse, Dean? I mean, come on, I was prepared to _kill_ Bobby! I can't take any of that back, but maybe I can make a difference now? Perhaps I can repay the debt by helping and saving as many people as possible."

Dean sighed. "You should listen to me, Sammy, because big brothers are _always_ right and none of that was your fault, none of it! You hear me?"

"Easy for you to say, Dean, you didn't do any of it." He unconsciously reached back and rubbed his rear, grimacing at the discomfort as he did so. "You didn't have to spank me, I know what I did was stupid."

"Uh-huh, well next time, make sure that if you know something is stupid that you don't go ahead and still do it anyway. 'Cause if you do…." Dean reached out and patted his brother's tender backside.

"Owww! Hands off you jerk!" Sam batted Dean's hand away.

"Just reminding you what will happen if you risk your life again," Dean grinned, unrepentant.

"Humph!" Sam huffed.

Half an hour later, Dean was leaning back against the headboard, flicking through the channels on the TV. Sam was sprawled next to him, face buried in a pillow as he let sleep slowly wash over him. After nearly getting killed and then being thrashed by his big brother, he was exhausted.

Thinking Sam was completely asleep, Dean reached out and gently carded his hand through his little brother's hair. "Not gonna let anythin' bad happen to you, Sammy," he murmured.

Sam let sleep claim him with a smile_. He was home and he was safe!_


End file.
